Imagine the stories of ghosts are true
That one's soul stays at home until after his funeral
And one sees whatever happens at one's funeral
The story could be different
One could see the enjoyment people do on one's behalf
Dancing and ‘merry-wailing' in his name
Ladies give away their precious skin in one's memory
Every mess is done in the name of one's demise
But, one could see a different environ in one's home
With sorrow-filled heaving hearts
And tearful eyes with saliva-null mouths
One's family would regret his death
If stories of ghost-land are true
Then one could stand at a corner and pity his death
Or join with the group and enjoy his exit
And until we get there; we can only guess!
(4th Feb.,2016; Ofoase)
This poem has not been translated into any other language yet.
I would like to translate this poem